Pugs spoke up. “The New York office told us to take this week off while they figure out where we’re moving offices.”
“Cleanup from the bomb crater,” James said.
Sylvie sighed. “Perhaps they’ll move us into the Savoy.”
Alec noticed James’ gaze centering on him, and Alec drew Sylvie closer.
“We’ll talk to you tomorrow,” James said. “Especially if we hear anything from the New York office or Benjamin.”
After James and Pugs left, Sylvie and Alec left to try and find a cab and make their way to his flat. He knew she’d pursue this to the ends of the Earth, so he walked with her to the front desk. They tried reaching Annie’s boss, with no success.
He knew taking care of Annie’s things would keep Sylvie sane for now. What about tomorrow?
* * * *
Sylvie woke in the middle of the night, heart pounding and breath coming fast. At first she didn’t remember where she was. The Savoy? Alec’s flat? Was that a siren? Bombing? Her breath gasped out as the horror struck her hard. She leaped out of the bed and tried the bedside lamp, fumbled, and almost missed the pull chord. She pulled it and light flooded the room. Alec’s bedroom came into view. Rushing for the door, she flung it open and stumbled down the hallway. She didn’t think, just ran toward the living room, toward the Morrison shelter in the closet.
“Sylvie!” Alec’s voice barely penetrated as he came down the hall from the dark living room.
She grabbed the closet doorknob and yanked.
“Sylvie!” Alec reached for her, turned her in his arms. “What are you doing?”
She breathed hard, her mouth dry and heart still banging in her chest. “Bombs. We have to get into the shelter.”
He cupped her face. “No, darling. There are no sirens and no bombs. You were dreaming.”
His frown and the heavy concern in his eyes, the gentle touch of his hands on her skin, all served to right her world.
“Listen.” He rubbed her shoulders and then slid his palms down to her hands. “No bombs.”
She listened. Not a thing. Only the relentless galloping of her heart and her heavy breathing. Sanity righted itself.
“No.” Her breath caught around the word. “No bombs.”
Silence enveloped them. The moment hung, balanced in time as if the world had stopped and nothing else mattered. Indeed, it didn’t matter with Alec here. What would she have done without him today? His gaze centered on her face, but when she stepped back, she realized his attention fell lower. She remembered she only wore her bra and panties, silky mauve garments with white lace edging. The rest of her was naked before him.
His lips parted, and she thought she heard him take a sharp breath. Slumberous and hot, his gaze took her in. She didn’t even think of covering herself, of racing to the bedroom and under the covers. She couldn’t see him well in the dim light, but the heat of his hands and the tension rolling between them sent sweet, aching need to her center.
“Darling,” his English voice rolled deep and warm, “you’re beautiful as hell, but we need to cover you up. It’s cold in here.”
She walked away, down the hall and to the couch where he’d been sleeping. She grabbed the blanket off the couch and wrapped herself in it to ward off the cold. But not his admiring glance. She could still feel that sensation, as indescribable as anything she’d experienced. A man showing her without words, with no more than a look, that he wanted her.
He surrounded her in a hug and rubbed her arms. After they’d first arrived at the flat, she’d called Daniel Freby from The Lady at the Savoy. He’d been searching for Annie all day but had just found out what happened . Sylvie explained she had her friend’s hat and ring.
Since Annie had no family, her remains would be interred in a pauper’s grave if no one claimed her. Sylvie had informed the editor that she’d claim her as family. She’d pay for a funeral and internment. Annie didn’t deserve a pauper’s funeral. Daniel had promised to make contact with an honest funeral parlor to make arrangements for Annie and to call Sylvie tomorrow with details. She asked him to try calling Alec’s flat or the Savoy, since she had no idea where she’d be.
And now, hours later, as Sylvie allowed Alec to hold her, exhaustion made her sag in his arms.
As if he read her mind, he said, “You’re tired. Why don’t you go back to bed?”
“I can’t sleep now. I can’t stop thinking of everything that happened today.”
He sighed. “All right then.” He released her and switched on a light by the couch. “Let’s sit and talk.”
So they sat on the couch, her wrapped in a blanket and his arms around her. She took the solace he offered, his warmth and concern easing the ache and fear. She didn’t like feeling this weak, yet she didn’t know how to feel any way else.
“You know,” he said, “When I was in the cab heading to the Tribune, I was scared out of my mind, Sylvie. I ran. I ran and it was as if I was running away from everything I’ve seen in the last few weeks.”
She imagined he hadn’t told her all the horrible things he’d seen, not when they were having dinner at his flat or at a pub. No, it was much easier to not say what he’d experienced, much easier to keep quiet.
“What did you see?” she asked.
He swallowed hard, and she was uncertain he could choke out an explanation.
“One early morning when the sun was coming up, we were working on this big building that had collapsed. A block of flats in the East End. Lots of deaths.”
“That’s awful. When was this?”
“A couple of weeks back. We worked through one night. I realized the next morning that I’d been so intent on working quickly that in the semi-darkness I’d missed a victim.”
Her gaze swung up to his, and she half expected to see self-condemnation in his eyes. She did.
“Oh, no,” she said.
“Yeah.” He swallowed hard. “I was walking on a dead man’s arm that was barely sticking out of a pile of wood. I…the look of it at first…it was like wood. So I didn’t recognize what I saw. All that night I’d been walking on a dead, frozen man and I didn’t know it.”
A few seconds after his confession, she could sense that he feared he’d said too much. She wanted to reassure him. “That’s terrible, Alec. Terrible for you and for the man who lost his life. You couldn’t have known. I hope you don’t blame yourself.”
He cleared his throat, as if a noose tightened around his neck. “I do sometimes. When we got him out later that morning, we realized he’d been dead a really long time. Long before I was there to search for him. Everyone missed him. That’s the part I feel bad about.”
“Oh, Alec.” She sighed. “I’m sorry.”
“So am I.”
They fell asleep there, but sometime in the night she felt him lift her in his arms. She snuggled into his embrace, content and feeling safer than she ever had. He tucked her in bed, and with the blanket still around her, he drew the bedspread over that. Under the sweetness of that care, she fell asleep.
Chapter 17
News Of The Day
New York Herald Tribune
Yesterday’s bombing raid did some major damage in Fleet Street and spread havoc in some of the newspaper offices in a building nearby. Several war correspondents and other newspaper staff were injured when the bomb landed in the middle of the street. Despite the severity of the blast, only one death was reported in the area, an employee of The Lady, Miss Annie Hollister. Other members of the press are reported missing at this hour. The building housing several publications sustained some window and front structural damage.
At this time authorities say it could be weeks before the building is ready for occupancy again and the street in front is repaired. As many other publications have, it is likely The Lady and the Tribune will relocate their offices to The Savoy.
* * * *
Friday, November 8
“Hello, Sylvie. It’s Benjamin. I’m alive.” Benjamin’s voice came
over the phone line, deadpan and almost bored.
Sylvie’s mouth opened in shock and maybe even a bit of relief at the news. She stared at the floor of Alec’s flat. Alec had gone out shopping for breakfast food, and when the phone rang, she hadn’t expected Benjamin to be the first person she’d hear from this morning.
“Benjamin, that’s wonderful.” She injected more enthusiasm in her voice than she could muster. “I’m glad to hear your voice. Where have you been? So many people were looking for you and Betty yesterday. Is Betty all right?”
“She’s fine. We were walking down Fleet Street when the bomb hit nearby. We immediately hid in the nearest shelter. We didn’t get out for quite awhile because the shelter door got stuck. Scared the hell out of us all. Fifty of us thought we’d been condemned to a tomb.”
“That’s horrible.”
“Betty was amazing, though. She kept everyone calm.”
Right. I’d believe that only if I saw it. Sylvie grimaced at her own lack of charity.
Before she could respond, he said, “I’ve just finished talking to the Tribune office in New York, and there’s going to be some changes.”
“Of course. I understand the building won’t be open for some time. Are we moving offices to the Savoy?”
“By next Monday we’re moving the offices. We can’t take furniture, but we’ll hire some day labor to move boxes of files. We’re renting a series of open rooms at the Savoy.”
She smiled, ready to make light of it. “We’ll be right there with everyone else. I’m sure we’ll work it out.”
“There’s a few other changes being made. Just decided this morning by the New York office.”
A tingle up her spine told her whatever she was about to hear, she wouldn’t like. A slight hesitation in his voice gave her warning too.
“The New York office thinks you should have a rest. Considering what happened to Annie, they think you’ve been traumatized,” Benjamin said.
She frowned and sat down on the chair next to the phone. “Have a rest?” Suspicion laced her tone. “What do you mean?”
“You were injured. They’ve decided a few weeks off might make sense. Leave London. Go to your grandparents’ home. Don’t worry about writing stories.”
Anger caused tears to fill her eyes. She struggled to keep her tone even, but it was difficult. Her fingers tightened around the telephone receiver. “I don’t need time off.”
“The New York office thinks differently.”
Sylvie almost gritted her teeth, and her anger rose high. She heard Alec come into the flat, and his smile faded when he saw her face.
“And who will be doing my work, Benjamin?” she asked, looking at Alec when she said it.
“Betty.”
Sylvie didn’t care, at this point, how she sounded when she said, “Why am I not surprised?”
“Well, this is one of the reasons you need time off. You have an attitude.”
She laughed, but it wasn’t filled with humor. “Did you suggest this extended vacation to the New York office? Or did Betty suggest it to you and then you suggested to New York?”
“I’m only thinking of your welfare, just as I do all the correspondents.”
“Right.” Then she said something she hoped she wouldn’t regret. “Enjoy Betty, Benjamin. But I’d beware. If she’s the one who convinced you to toss me out of my job, you can be certain there will be a payback.”
“That’s ridiculous.” His voice rose higher, gruff and angry. “Keep up this attitude, and I’ll recommend permanent dismissal.”
“I’ll be calling the New York office myself, Benjamin. Good day.” Afraid she’d toss the phone against the wall, she took extra care to place the receiver in the cradle.
She stared at the phone until she heard Alec call her name. He squatted down next to her. “Sylvie? What happened?”
She told him and watched his mouth twist in anger.
“What a tosser,” he said. “I cannot believe he did that.” His frown turned deeper, his eyes stormy. “On the other hand, I do believe it.” His hands curled into fists. “I’d like to pound some sense into him.”
She touched his arm. “All that would get you is bloody knuckles and arrested.”
He kissed her forehead. “I know, darling.”
“At least we have the satisfaction of knowing our suspicions were right.”
“You can’t let him get away with this.”
She stood and walked to the kitchen where he’d brought home meat and powdered eggs. “I won’t. Let’s eat.”
She didn’t want to talk about what happened with Benjamin, her anger so fierce she was afraid she’d start tossing something around the kitchen.
“You’re calling New York?” he asked.
She glanced up at the clock. If she was going to call today, she’d better do it now. “Yes. I’d better do it before breakfast.”
“I’ll fix breakfast while you call.” His tone had returned to calm, but she saw the troubled expression in his eyes.
As she started the call, her stomach tossed and tumbled with nerves. She made it through to the New York office and talked to Mr. Draycott, who’d sent her to New York in the first place.
“Miss Hunnicut, it’s great to hear from you. Benjamin said you want some time off after the bombing.”
Sylvie stared out of the small basement window at the gray and dreary day. “I didn’t tell him that. In fact, I didn’t even know he was alive until he called me a few minutes ago. We didn’t discuss me coming back to work or anything until he called.”
“I see. How unusual. Well, he was rattled by the bombing too.”
She wanted to scream for Draycott not to make excuses for Benjamin’s machinations. “I understand Betty is taking over for me. Is she an official hire?”
“Just temporarily, until you feel well enough to come back to work.”
“I feel well enough now.” Sylvie caught Alec’s deep frown when he walked up to her, but she kept talking. “I could go to the Savoy and start work right now.”
“Well, that’s probably not a good idea. Take at least a couple of weeks to recover. You lost a good friend in Miss Hollister.”
Sylvie’s eyes teared up at the mention of Annie’s name. She sucked in a breath. “Annie wouldn’t want me to stop working.”
A long sigh came over the line. “Sylvie, I sense there’s something else you’re not saying. Let’s have it.”
She couldn’t accuse Benjamin, especially because she didn’t have the proof. “Betty has insinuated she’d like my job.”
“What? But she has a job.”
Sylvie took a chance and told Draycott everything.
“This is disturbing. I see your concern, but we haven’t put Betty into your spot as a permanent replacement. Take your time off and consider it a gift, if you like, from the Tribune.”
After she hung up, Alec cupped her face. “What’s wrong? What happened?”
She filled him into what Draycott said. “You know what this is. Betty and Benjamin are trying to make me look incompetent. They want Betty to replace me permanently.”
He kissed her forehead and drew her into his arms. “It doesn’t sound like Draycott has that in mind, even if Betty and Benjamin are making an attempt. Take the time off. Stay here with me.”
She spread her hands over his chest, enjoying the feeling of heat and strength under her touch. Alec had always been well-built, but hard manual labor with the AFS had honed him into a solid rock. She looked up at him.
Temptation grabbed hold of her, but she hesitated. “Alec…”
“If you stay at the Savoy, it’ll be expensive, right?”
“Yes. I doubt the Tribune would pay for the room while I’m not working there. They’d expect me to stay with my grandparents. Perhaps I should.”
Alec’s eyes held warmth and sympathy. “But you don’t want to.”
“Not really. Going there would feel like…”
“Giving up?”
“Yes.”
He released her from the hug, but brushed back her hair. “Don’t worry. My friend won’t mind you living here. I’ll call him and make certain.” When she still didn’t confirm she wanted to stay with him, Alec crossed his arms and tilted his head in question. “Unless there’s another reason you don’t want to stay here.”
She touched his forearm, curling her fingers around all his assurance and strength. “My grandparents will have a fit. They won’t approve of me, an unmarried woman, living in sin with a man.”
Red touched his cheekbones. She’d rarely seen him embarrassed, but his next statement confirmed it. “We aren’t…Sylvie, you know I would never force anything like that on you.”
“I know. As long as you’re not concerned about it, I won’t be either.”
Alec gathered her hands into his. “Sylvie, it is completely up to you. I won’t have you feeling as if anyone forced this on you. If you want to live at the Savoy or anywhere else, that’s all your decision.”
She smiled. “You’re wonderful, Alec Kent. Yes, it is up to me. And I can’t believe I’m concerned. I have a fortress down here in this basement. I’ll stay with you. Tell your friend I can pay him rent. I won’t live here for free.”
“We’ll see.”
She rubbed her hands over her face. “Let’s eat and talk about it. I’m starving.”
* * * *
Later in the day, Alec went out to buy a few more items for dinner as well as check in with the Fleet Street Station. They didn’t expect him back immediately, but he wanted to see if they needed extra assistance with anything. The icebox in the flat wasn’t large, so shopping daily was a must. Alec had insisted she rest, and she took his advice. With food lines long, it could take him some time to return to the flat. She didn’t want to rest—in her mind it made more sense to work. She didn’t like sitting on her rear and lamenting her lot.
She didn’t want to sit in one place and run a million what ifs through her mind. What if she’d kept Annie talking longer? What if Annie had just walked faster or slower? Whenever she allowed questions to enter her thoughts, tears and doubt would assault her. To her, weakness came in the form of too much wallowing, too much pondering what she couldn’t change. She fell asleep on the couch when the phone rang again and jolted her out of slumber.
One London Night Page 28